i once saw a weeping man standing
at a window. our eyes met, and
for one fierce moment
i knew we shared a deep connection.

then the 'L' train i was on shot by,
a horizontal shape slicing the vertical,
sundering our budding relationship
decisively.

i still think of him sometimes,
especially on the 'L',
though i've never found his window again.
as if a hole opened
in the gleaming fabric of the city
and swallowed up the window
and the man;
then with a shimmer rippled shut, smoothening
itself out
to become another anonymous glass wall.

people look more beautiful up here,
coiled
in each window
like a portrait in a picture frame.
when i see someone looking, i always
look back. i indulge in these
random acts of intimacy,
because in the next moment
i am gone,
hurtling through the city
in the air.